


heartlines

by jessamoo



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessamoo/pseuds/jessamoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt "Francis returns home from war but Bash is captured."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She felt the cold absence of him in the bones of her, like the gaps ad hollows of her rib cage were the places he illuminated – and without them they were endlessly empty, like a night’s sky without the stars.

When they had been informed of the troops return, everyone in the castle had ran out in a haze of relief and happiness.

Kenna had been vaguely aware of Mary rushing to Francis with a cry, as she herself stilled with a shiver of awareness creeping over her.

 

Because she had known as son as she stepped out. She felt a heavy unnameable weight settle inside of her as she looked around. She understood then with a frightening, startling clarity that her husband was not here.

Kenna stood in the middle of the courtyard. The flurry and noise all around her blurred to her, like the light had been dimmed from the world.

 

The crowd seemed to part around her then and she saw Francis a few feet in front of her. He looked worn and ragged and dirty – clearly he had suffered in this war. He is looking right at her intensely focused, and she can see the pity in his eyes.

She realised tears had gathered in her own eyes only when she blinked in fear and they splashed freely down her cheeks.

“Where is he?” she asks in a quiet, trembling voice.

Silence falls all around them as they stare at each other – everyone around them openly watched them. 

 

She asks because she only knows he isn’t here.

She knows, beyond question, that he is not dead.

Bash had promised her he would die an old man, in bed beside her whilst he slept.

 

She knew that if he had died she would have felt it. She would have known, physically, instinctively. She would have felt him being ripped from this world. She would have felt the parts of him that lived inside of her die with him.

She refused to consider the idea that his body, strong and protective, was an empty husk. She couldn’t imagine his bright eyes dimming. Pagan eyes, ancient and magic, could not be extinguished so easily. It would be like scorching all the forests of the earth bare leaving nothing but ashes.

 

“I lost him.” Francis explains shakily. She sees the distress and guilt in his eyes but can’t bring herself to respond with anything but a tearful glare.

When she doesn’t reply Francis seems to believe he is reassuring her and so carries on hurriedly.

“We were set upon as we returned home through the forest. Enemy soldiers. I…I tried to stop them, I tried. But Bash he got me out of there, he stopped them from taking me…he got captured. He…he forfeited his freedom for the sake of mine.” As he spoke he had moved towards her, his eyes growing tearful.

So bash was alive. But he was lost to her in a far off place she couldn’t picture. He felt lifetimes away.

And he had been captured defending his king, his brother. Bash would take solace in that at least she knew. He wouldn’t blame Francis in the slightest and she supposed she shouldn’t either. Anyone would have done what he did. But he wouldn’t get angry either. Good man that he was.

But Kenna could be angry for him, and she was. 

She filled herself up with enough angry sadness for the both of them and without thinking, she reached up and swung her hand at Francis, hitting his face with a loud resounding slap that made her hand sting.

Suddenly a flock of guards moved toward her in defence of their king, but Francis ordered them back.

She moves to push against him wildly but he grabs her flailing arms.

Francis wraps his arms around her as she struggles and sobs loudly. Eventually though she stops fighting and sags against him in a flood of tears.

He pulls away and holds her face tightly in both of his hands.

“I will find him Kenna.” He urged, nodding vehemently as she glowers up at him.

“I promise I will. I will bring him home to us if my life depends on it.”

Kenna doesn’t answer. She just tugs her face free and flees back into the castle, leaving everyone staring worriedly after her.

 

She doesn’t know how long she spent pacing, waiting, in a daze. Sometimes she would lie down or stare at the window. Nothing seemed to help.

Everything echoed with the loss of him. All the spaces he used to fill up felt like empty caverns now.

 

Eventually the door swings open with a loud thud. Kenna jumps up expecting to see Mary. She does, but only after she is greeted by the imperious glare of Catherine, and a more apologetic glance from Francis.

“We’ve been discussing the situation with Bash.” Mary explains to her. She says it kindly but Kenna doesn’t miss he glare she sends to Catherine, and she is not fooled by her friend’s kind smile. She knows something is wrong.

Mary had taken her hand as she spoke but now Kenna pulls it away and turns to Catherine.

“The situation?” she echoes in disbelief. “Bash has been kidnapped!” she yells and looks around – no one is meeting her eye.

“Yes, yes.” Catherine placates in a bored voice. “And we are all sorry for your loss.”

Kenna scoffs loudly.

“My loss? He isn’t dead!” she throws her hands up in anger.

“Of course he isn’t.” Mary glowers at her mother in law, who simply rolls her eyes.

“We don’t know that.” she says. “I’m sorry but that’s the simple fact of the matter. We might have won the battle but we didn’t win the war. We simply don’t have the men to chase after one person, whether he is your brother or not.”

Kenna’s eyes flash angrily to Francis. “You’re not going after him?” she breathes blankly not believing any of what she’s hearing.

“I am.” He replies sharply, though the commanding tone is directed at his mother.

 

He and his mother continue to argue. Mary joins in, but Kenna sees it before they finish. She sees that Catherine is going to convince them like she always did.

Kenna was going to lose Bash. And that was something that she could never let happen, not whilst there was still a chance. Not whilst there was breath in her body. She could never forgive it. He was the person she loved most in this world, and there was no way she was going to abandon him to it.

“It would be best to wait for a ransom. Then at least we know how to proceed.” Catherine states.

The others must agree, whether they want to or not. Mary is gripping Kenna’s hands again, tightly, but she doesn’t notice.

Because she already knows she absolutely cannot just sit here and wait.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day she is summoned to the throne room in the morning.

She hadn’t slept that night. 

She stayed awake staring at her wedding ring, thinking about Bash. She imagined if she thought about him enough, somehow those thoughts might find him, travelling on the wind to wherever he was, and he would know he wasn’t forgotten.

 

Francis and Mary await her on their thrones. She doesn’t bow to them. She is sure her attitude in public toward the king is offending people but she doesn’t really care. She cares about her husband.

“We’ve received a ransom demand for Bash.” Francis tells her. There is something lacking in his tone, something hesitant. She knows then something else is coming.

“But it far exceeds what we were expecting…what we can afford.”

Kenna closes her eyes and shakes her head in anger. “Money shouldn’t be an issue.” she spits. “Not when it is for Bash.”

“I agree. We are raising the funds as we speak…” Francis soothes.

“Then what is the problem exactly?” she snaps in frustration.

Francis sighs sadly. “It might take a few days. Maybe even a week. We don’t know.”

“A week?” she cries. “Bash might not survive the week!”

“They would have no leverage if they killed him.” Mary interjects gently.

“They would be taking away one of the kings closest allies.” Her gaze flies back to Francis, indignant. “One of your best fighters and your brother. The grief and loss of morale alone would be enough to damage us significantly.”

She stares between Francis and Mary waiting for an answer. She can tell they see her point. She can also tell there isn’t anything they can do.

“We all love bash.” Mary states seeing Kenna’s face fall.

Maybe she is trying to comfort her. But it doesn’t work. Kenna feels spite contorting her face, however unfairly at her friend’s words. Mary had used Bash. Maybe she had loved him, in her way, once. But she had used him to save Francis all the same.

Perhaps Kenna would have done the same thing in her position, for someone she loved. But she wouldn’t have given him false hope of a real love like Mary had. Kenna knew how long it had taken Bash to let go of that hope, to move on from Mary. She had helped him. They had grown past all that together. And now Mary sought to placate her? 

“You don’t love him like I do.” She grumbles shakily, not meeting Mary’s eyes.

Mary looks offended and is about to reply hotly until Francis puts a hand over hers. She glances as her husband and softens with an accepting nod.

“Your right Kenna, he is your husband. But he is family, as are you. And we are doing everything we can.”

Not everything, thought Kenna.

 

She stared out of her window that night longingly.

She looks up at the bright pregnant moon and wonders if Bash can see it.

She thinks that so long as he can, he isn’t too far away from her.

That’s why she glances at the pack resting by her feet.

She had stolen food from the kitchen and shoved a few shirts in there. She had also added her most simple dress, a light grey woollen one that she never wore.

She tugs at the leather riding breeches uncomfortably resting on her hips. They were Bash’s and so obviously didn’t sit right on her. The green shirt she wore was his too, and she had been happy to realise it still smelt of him when she had pulled it on.

Waiting had never been an option. No one knew if they could raise the money in time. She couldn’t rely on that. And for once she obviously couldn’t rely on Bash. So she had to rely on herself. She needed to do this for him. 

And with that thought in her mind she slung the pack upwards onto her shoulder and wrapped a cape around her.

She kept the moon in her sight as the horse thundered beneath her.

And so, alone in the cold night air, Kenna disappeared into the darkness.

 

Bash looked up at the moon.

It shined in through the bars on the small hole in the wall of the dungeon.

The rest of the tiny space was dark. It smelled of blood and sweat – as well as various other unpalatable odours. Straw and dirt covered the ground all around him.

Bash lifted the chains around his wrist experimentally, though they dug into his skin painfully.

He remembers Kenna’s fingers encircling the same spot before he had ridden away from her all those weeks ago. The comparison is so violent to him, such an opposition of feeling, that it hurts something in his soul.

The idea of Kenna, bright and kind, seemed so foreign in such a horrible place as this.

“I have to get out of here.” He mutters.

“Fat chance of that.” a nonchalant voice drawls from the neighbouring cell. They were separated by only a few rusty bars that Bash leant his back on, and he felt the older man leaning parallel to him, their backs meeting. Bash didn’t know who the man was or what he looked like and he didn’t really care.

“I have to.” He states emphatically. “I have a wife.” He adds softly as if that was explanation enough.

“ah.” The man says knowingly. “And she would fall apart without you?”

Bash frowns. “Well, not entirely. She would grieve, but she’s strong. Stronger than anyone knows. But-“

“Ok, so she would be penniless without you?”

“no.” bash shrugs. “Far from it actually.”

“She won’t get another husband?”

“No...She’s young and beautiful – look why does any of this matter?”

“Because I want a reason to help you, you idiot boy. But you aren’t giving me one.” The other man cries.

“Why would you help me?” bash asks suspiciously.

“Well I don’t know if you know this, but sitting in a dungeon for two years can get very boring.” Is the sarcastic reply.

Bash rolls his eyes at the man’s flippant tone.

“So give me a good reason.” His companion carries on.

“Kenna needs me. That my wife’s name.”

“Yes, I gathered.” The man drawls, unmoved.

“Alright. I want to tell her I love her.” Bash says softly.

“Haven’t you told her that before? What kind of husband are you?”

Bash sighs in annoyance. He half considers giving up and going to sleep. But when he closes his eyes he sees Kenna’s face. And he knows he has to do everything in his power to return to her.

“I have told her.”

“Well then. Why should I care about your feelings?”

“Not mine.” He states. “Hers. I don’t think I’ve told her I love her enough. I haven’t explained how much, not properly. Don’t you think she deserves to know she is loved...? She isn’t always as confident as she pretends to be. She doesn’t always feel worthy. But she is. My god, she is. And I think she should know that. So there is your reason. The best reason, the only reason. For Kenna to know she outshines the sun. So help me for her sake. Not mine.”

The man is quiet for a long moment. So long in fact that Bash finds himself turning slightly to check he hasn’t fallen asleep – or died.

Then the man shrugs – Bash feels it against his shoulder.

“Alright then.” The man exclaims jovially, as if he had agreed to a nice stroll outside, not to breaking out of a dungeon. “Let’s go tell your wife you love her.”


	3. Chapter 3

Kenna had ridden all night and day – the night after that had been even more difficult.

Blisters on her fingers she could handle – but she didn’t particularly want any encounters with menacing strangers on the road. She had managed to take a knife from the kitchens on her night time raid. But it would be no match for a real sword. And despite a few basic self-defence lessons from Bash, she wasn’t the best fighter.

So instead, when she came upon a small tavern, she changed quickly in the stables to her simple woollen dress. She might not be able to fight, but she had much easier ways to extract information.

She had known the general area in which bash had been taken, and realised they couldn’t have taken him too far in just a few days.

Kenna easily supplies drink to the men in the tavern – and they are all too ready to gossip about the capture of the king’s bastard.

She feels them leering at her, getting ready to paw at her – even in her simple dress she was still exceedingly attractive.

But she manages to extract herself delicately and soon they are too drunk to realise. She slips out of the tavern before they sober up. She had the information she needed.

Bash wasn’t being held to far away – just some nearby holdings on the outskirts of the wood. If she rode all night she could get there before morning.

As she rode she was boosted by the knowledge that he was close. She could at least say she had done everything she could for him. As he would have done for her.

She was scared still though as she rode through the ominous wood. She missed the warmth of the castle to be sure, but it was nothing without Bash to share it with.

 

When she finally reaches her destination, her heart constricts in fear.

She jumps down from her horse, almost tumbling over in her haste but not caring. She staggers forward, running as fast as she can.

Smoke stings her eyes and chokes her as she raises her arm against it, trying to see past it.

Because the holdings were on fire. No one was in site save for a few incapacitated guards. They looked like they had been dragged away from the fire. She sees no sign of Bash, but that gesture seemed like something he would do.

Kenna reaches one of the guards and pulls her knife from her boot in a vicious frenzy, holding it roughly against the man’s neck as he gazes dazedly up at her.

“Where is he?” she screams in half anger, half terror.

“Where…what?” the guard mumbles, only then realising what was happening.

“What happened here?” she presses the knife further into his neck.

“Who are you?” he asks confusedly.

“I am a very angry wife searching for her husband! he might have saved you, but if you think I will not cut your throat, you are sorely mistaking the lengths I would go to for his sake.” She spits, her voice shaking. “There is another guard that can tell me when you are dead.”

The guard looks worriedly at his fellow solider lying on the ground.

“Tell me where the prisoners are!” she yells once more.

“Alright fine! They ambushed us when we took them their food. There was only two of them so we didn’t expect them to try anything.”

“And?” she presses.

“And the crazy one set this place on fire and they both ran off into the woods.”

“Both of them got away?”

“Yes!”

Kenna removes the knife from the man’s throat and he relaxes, sagging down in relief.

She turns to peer in the direction of the wood but sees nothing.

Suddenly the guard grabs her wrist that grips the knife and she tugs it back. She spins and awkwardly flings her knee up in a panic, wincing as it comes into contact with his face. He falls back down, unconscious again.

She staggers backwards, turning, searching wildly.

“Bash!” she calls loudly, stumbling forward.

She starts running to the woods. He had to be close. She couldn’t have come all this way for nothing.

“Bash!” she had defied her king, her friend. She had put herself in danger. She couldn’t fail now.

She’s screaming his name like a demon, or like it’s a prayer.

 

Bash staggered wearily through the wood. He didn’t really know where he was or where he was going, but he knew he had to go.

They had picked a time when most of the troops had been out on patrol, but he had no doubt they would return soon and pursue him.

He wasn’t going to get himself captured again. He could take any beatings from guards, but he couldn’t take the thought of leaving Kenna by herself.

 

The man who had helped him, jean, was tall with greying hair. He was well built and appeared to be in his late forties. He was trudging along behind Bash, complaining. Despite his rants about how this walk hurt his bare feet, Bash knew he was happy to be free.

“You’d think they would put up sign posts in here, wouldn’t you?” he grumbles.

“Bash!”

Bash stills. Jean is still muttering and he shushes him harshly. He stands stock still, trying to listen.

Maybe he had dreamed it. Maybe he had been longing for her, the way one yearns for water in a desert. Maybe her voice was a mirage, a hallucination, for he knew it was impossible for her to be here.

But was it? Would he not always find her, were she lost? Did their heartbeats not call to each other?

“Bash!” he hears it again, louder this time, and he knows.

Quickly and piercingly he knows she is here. Somehow against all odds, she was here. He didn’t know if it was luck, love, fate or magic and he didn’t care. Because his wife was here and she was calling his name.

His feet move forward before his mind even tells them to, instinctively moving toward her. He breaks out in a run, crashing through forest and trees like they weren’t there. Jean cries out behind him but he isn’t listening. He just keeps powering forward, faster than he had ever run before.

“Kenna!” he bellows, searching wildly for her. “Kenna I’m here!”

There is a brief pause and he worries she had moved too far away to hear him.

“Bash?” he hears her closer to him before, he is so close he can hear the trembling question in her voice. “Is that you?”

“Yes! I’m here!” he finds himself smiling as he surges forward again. “I’m coming to you!”

He breaks through the foliage of the woods, back to the field with the burning building.

 

Then he sees her. Miraculous and godly in the haze, and she is running to him.

They crash together, crying and yelping, squeezing each other almost painfully. They sink to the ground together as their arms cling to one another with fervent ferocity – like they can sink into each other so their hearts can beat against each other.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” he shouts despite her closeness.

He pulls away then to frown down at her, tangling his hands in her hair. 

“You’re here. How are you here? It’s so dangerous Kenna!”

Her smile is wide and open in awe and he knows she isn’t hearing his words, just searching his face happily like she hasn’t seen it for years.

“Oh I don’t care!” he laughs, pulling her to him again to crash their lips together.

When they part again he kisses her face all over until she hugs him.

“I had to find you!” she breathes shakily. “I was so scared they wouldn’t come for you in time.”

Bash doesn’t reply, just presses her closer to him in response.

“I love you for it.” He sighs. “It was reckless and stupid, but I adore you for it.”

She laughs and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

“And I love you.” she smiles, happy tears gathering in her eyes.

 

Then a throat clears behind them. 

They look up in surprise to see Jean looking down at them having dutifully followed Bash back here. Bash had forgotten about him till then.

“I do hope this is your wife.” Jean quirks an eyebrow. “Or this would be awkward. Also…” he points to something across the field.

Bash and Kenna both turn to see a group of riders approaching, their faces indistinguishable through the smoke in the air.

 

Bash moves Kenna protectively behind him and she shoves her knife into his hand. He looks down at the pitifully small weapon as Jean and Kenna cower behind him.

He shrugs – it was better than nothing – and holds it out with the same confidence than if it were a broad sword.

 

The riders dismount and their leader begins to rush forward. Bash hears no blade being drawn, but squinting into the smoke he sees a strangely familiar halo of bright blonde hair.

“Francis?” he asks in shock.

“Francis?” Kenna echoes in confusion, looking at Bash.

 

Then his brother steps out of the smoke in front of him with a surprised, relieved smile.

“Bash!” he cries happily and with a laugh the two brothers embrace tightly.

“I was coming to free you.” Francis grins as they part. “But I see you managed that part on your own.”

“I thought…” Kenna shakes her head as she steps forward. “I thought you were waiting to gather the money.”

Francis smiles warmly at her and holds his hand out for her to take, and she does so gratefully.

“I was going to.” He says. “But I knew the truth of your words. I knew I could not wait, not where Bash was concerned, so I sneaked out. I didn’t know you were doing the exact same thing. Though I expect Mary is going to be rather annoyed with us.” He grins.

Kenna looks down sheepishly and he squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“I don’t blame you Kenna, I did the same thing after all.”

“Well!” Bash raises his arms. “I’m feeling quite flattered. But by the sound of it I think you need to improve the security of your castle if even the king can sneak out.”

Francis nudges him playfully. “That’s a job for the king’s deputy.” He teases.

“He might be flattered, but I’m confused. And hungry.” Jean calls from behind the group.

The others laugh and break apart.

Bash and Kenna ride her horse back, his arms holding the reins around her. She leans back against him and eventually falls asleep, listening to the steady familiar beat of his heart, thumping in tandem with her own.


End file.
